Mischief Managed Year One: Mayhem of the Moon

Chapter Sixteen- Howls and Hospital Visit

TWs: Description of Injuries, and a Small Mention of a Traumatic Experience

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"Darling, right over here," Madam Pomfrey called Remus over in an encouraging tone.

It hadn't occurred to Remus that the hospital wing might not be empty. Instead, there was a Ravenclaw clutching his stomach and muttering angrily about Quidditch, and a first year Slytherin whose tongue was swelling out of her scowling mouth. But Madam Pomfrey quickly and calmly escorted him to the private room in the back that would be "his" when he needed it. He swallowed down the panic that had risen in him at seeing two students in the cots. Madame Pomfrey insisted neither of them noticed and pointed out to Remus that she hadn't said his name just to be sure. Her extra measures touched him deeply. She even had a tub set aside that she warmed with a flick of her wand, then poured in a potion that would help with the soreness.

After he assured her he just felt a little sick and he could undress himself, she gave him the privacy he needed to get into the tub. He found the warm water to be a huge relief on his aching joints. He hadn't even realized he passed out until Madam Pomfrey gently shook him, attempting to pull him out of the tub. He was very drowsy, but he quickly realized the situation and shifted, face going red.

"Oh, none of that. I've seen it all before, dear," she tsked at him in her brisk air of normalcy that typically relaxed him.

He shook his head, glad the bubbles were covering the heinous scars that covered his body. He knew she'd be seeing them tomorrow morning. Still, he wanted to prevent that as long as possible. After a few more hearty tugs she gave up with a sigh.

"Have it your way then, darling." The matron sounded more exasperated than angry, but he still felt bad as she left. It took him a comically long time to dry himself off and get dressed into some old clothes. As he wobbled throughout the process, he came dangerously close to passing out several times, his vision coming in and out of focus. At last, Remus finished and set himself to his next ridiculously challenging task: making it onto the bed.

A few very long minutes later he managed to do so. He shivered, teeth chattering loudly, as he pulled a blanket up to his neck. Remus hated that his trousers and baggy shirt didn't cover nearly as much of him as he typically liked. Still, he wouldn't complain about the clothes 'stolen' from the lost and found, not unless he could provide his own robes every month. This was an unlikely prospect. Remus did not even have a knut to his name and he knew his school robes would get ruined if he took them to the shack.

Remus tried to stay awake as long as he could, but that wasn't very long. The physical strain of the pre-stages of transformation that got his body as ready as possible for the grueling night, coupled with the stress about it all, left him bone tired. So he shouldn't have been surprised he slept for hours. However, Madam Pomfrey waking him up with a gentle "its time, dear" sent him into a full-blown panic. His heart hammered loudly as he leaped from his bed and he hardly registered the sharp intake of breath that came from Madam Pomfrey seeing some of his scars.

Remus was too busy turning this way and that, wildly checking for, well, he wasn't entirely sure what. That he hadn't hurt anyone, he supposed.

"Madam Pomfrey, what time is it?" His small voice betrayed his fear. What if she got the time wrong and he was going to transform in the castle and kill people? He felt tears prick his eyes, dangerously close to falling.

"Remus, calm down. There's still a whole hour before the full moon," Madam Pomfrey assured him, soothingly rubbing circles onto his back as she instructed him to breathe. He coughed and coughed, his chest being painfully tight. Eventually, he calmed down enough and the panic faded away.